


Not On My Watch

by MissScorp



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm internalizing like always, Post-episode 1x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp
Summary: That's what Gil told him when he confessed his fear that he could have turned out just like Isaac. Malcolm hoped so.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Not On My Watch

" _Not on my watch_."

That's what Gil said to him after he confessed his inner fear that he could have turned out just like Isaac.

_"_ _Not on my watch."_

A small smile accompanied those softly stated words. Malcolm believed those words. He trusted them. Same as he did the man who said them.

Now?

After everything that happened with him and John Watkins? He could only pray those words weren't the empty ones people spoke when trying to offer words of comfort.

Deep down where things still made sense, Malcolm knew they weren't something said simply to bring him comfort. Gil Arroyo never said things just to make him feel better. No, he always infused some piece of wisdom or truth in the things he said.

He was opposite Martin Whitly in that way.

His father tended to inject his words with false truths and carefully worded phrases that created the facade Martin Whitly had used for years: doting, loving, and supportive father.

That's why he needed Gil.

More now than ever.

_Especially after what Watkins told me about my father's plans_...

Malcolm shut that thought down before it could take deeper root inside his feverish brain. He didn't want to think about John Watkins or what happened — in that underground playroom he and his father used to torture their victims — after he managed to free himself from the chains Watkins locked him in.

Malcolm could shut out Martin Whitly's voice congratulating him on doing what he needed to protect himself and their family. He had years of experience in blocking out his father.

Harder to shut out was Watkins.

His voice punched through the white noise that typically filled his mind, and silenced the dark things that typically laughed and jeered at him.

" _We brought you on that camping trip to take care of you for good." A small smile crept over Watkins face. His head tilted to the side. Considering. Then his face went devoid of all emotion. A perfect poker face. One even Malcolm with all his experience and skill couldn't crack. "Your father was going to kill you._ "

_Shock crashed over Malcolm in icy waves as those words echoed inside his already fraying mind. The pain in his chest from where Watkins stabbed him was nothing compared to hearing his father was going to kill him_.

No, was his first thought once the astonishment wore off. There was no way. Watkins was wrong. Mistaken. However, the confident look on Watkins face shook Malcolm more than the revelation. He tried telling himself he couldn't trust the words of a manipulator. There was no way his father had taken him on that camping trip with the purpose — the intention — of killing him.

Martin Whitly was many things — a sadistic megalomaniac, a predatory psychopath, and a malignant narcissist — but he hadn't believed him capable of killing him. Of course, he hadn't thought his father willing to harm him, either. Watkins confirmed how much he had when he admitted his father drugged him, repeatedly, until it stopped. _Why_?

" _The chloroform wasn't working as well as it once did."_

_Watkins expression said he found his father using chloroform to make him forget amusing. As if drugging him over and over was some great joke. Fury pulsed inside Malcolm but he banked it. He needed to keep his mind as clear as possible if he had any hope of escaping this underground torture chamber. Before he could ask how many times his father had drugged him, Watkins waved his hands in an almost dismissive gesture and said, "You were starting to remember things_."

What things? That's what he desperately wanted — no, he instantly corrected. What he _needed_ to know. What things had he started remembering? Was it about the other victims? The girl in the box? Not that Watkins seemed inclined to answer any of his questions. Especially as they related to the girl in the box.

" _Stop asking about the girl."_

_The way Watkins said it, that small verbal explosion confirmed to him that the girl in the box played a significant role in what happened on that camping trip. Malcolm just didn't know how big a role she played or what his own involvement had been_.

_"_ _The girl..." he paused to take a breath. "I tried to save her, didn't I?"_

_Watkins' face tightened with disgust._

_"_ _You've got a hell of a hero complex."_

_Malcolm ignored that. Kept his mind focused._

_"_ _Tell me why I stabbed you."_

_The look Watkins gave him said he thought him dim-witted. Then he huffed what sounded suspiciously like a laugh and smiled a small, almost pleasant smile._

_"_ _It was self-defense."_

As if that explained why he tried to kill Watkins. Self-defense for what? Even the flashes of the argument between Watkins and his father told him nothing. What happened before his stabbing Watkins? Where was his father when he stabbed Watkins? Was he was busy disposing of the girl in the box as Watkins suggested?

_Was he really planning on killing me?_

That thought rolled over and over through Malcolm's mind as he stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, faintly hearing the soft _beep beep_ of the machines he was hooked too through the growing static, and desperately wishing he had gotten the answers from Watkins he wanted instead of more questions.

_What did I do on that camping trip_?

That was the question that continued to haunt him.

That, and, _Have I finally become my father_?

" _Not on my watch_ ," he heard again through the noise crowding his mind. " _Not on my watch, kid_."

God, he hoped so.

Otherwise...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all, and welcome! This piece is in response to the events of episode 1x11. They're more or less what I see as some of Malcolm's thoughts ('cause he is gonna have a lot, I imagine) as he processes what happened in that cellar between him and Watkins.
> 
> Please, if you like this, kudo/bookmark it! Thank you for reading!


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